


Enemies of war

by Vaporwavecat1994



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 12:23:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20994749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaporwavecat1994/pseuds/Vaporwavecat1994





	1. Chapter 1

The air was still. The sun had recently set, and clouds covered whatever starlight would normally be visible. Only darkness was left to blanket the world below.

A figure dressed in light armor stood outside the entrance of a cavern. Her smoke-colored skin helped the warrior blend in with the shadows, with only her long white hair bringing attention to her location. The figure watched across the landscape before her. Any movement that occurred would be easily noticed, as her senses were far superior than those who lived above ground. She was fully aware when a subordinate of hers approached, and waited for whatever news they had been ordered to relay.

"My priestess," they began, "We have discovered the location of the enemy settlement. Their leader was encountered and has agreed to meet with the council."

The priestess narrowed her eyebrows as the update was given. This barbaric tribe had become a significant nuisance to the council lately. While the priestess and her armed forces did not require as much rest as other races of the world, they were unable to traverse the land during the light of the day. Centuries of being cast underground had left their pale eyes deathly sensitive to sunlight. These savage warriors continued to attack when the sun was at its brightest, and the priestess and fellow soldiers had been forced to retreat underneath the earth. Whatever ground they had previously seized was lost until a solution was found.

Scouts had been dispatched earlier in attempt to find this tribe and propose a truce. While vastly difference in terms of societies, the armies seemed mostly balanced in terms of how destructive they could be. Failing to have this troublesome threat removed would be detrimental to the priestess' plan for domination of the surface world. To ensure her victory, a section of her army had been sent to ambush the tribe, should this meeting between leaders prove unsuccessful. The priestess would achieve her desired results, one way or another. 

Leaving the messenger and heading deeper into the cave, the figure of faith arrived at a building that had been recently carved into the stone walls surrounding her. The result of the labor was mediocre at best. Slaves were needed in the capital city, so only a small amount had been allowed to accompany the army as it traveled outside of the UnderDark. The priestess cursed the newly created architecture. It was unfit for the magnificence her goddess held. She silently prayed that her war efforts would be enough to keep her deity from incurring her merciless wrath.

Inside, a circle of makeshift thrones had been created for herself and the other council members. The others watched as the priestess approached and made claim to her own seat. There were five of them in total, each as merciless and true to their goals as the other. 

"I presume your warriors have taken their positions?" One of the figures sitting to the left asked. "I do not expect that meeting with this senseless orc will end without difficulty." 

"Do not worry, Shadowhand. My forces merely await my message. We will gain these monsters as slaves or they will be destroyed." The priestess replied, keeping her voice monotone. While those sitting on the council worked together, it was quite obvious that none of them liked each other. Regardless, as long as their goddess' wishes were fulfilled, it didn't matter who held such seats of power. Serving Lolth was far more important than any relationships between mortals. 

"Bloodweaver." Another person spoke, addressing the priestess in the middle. "Why are we wasting our time with these savages? Surely we have the advantage now that the night has come?" 

Bloodweaver turned to the other side to face the one who had spoken. "I became witness to the leader of this tribe during the attack. Whether through agreement or captivity, having the strength of her people may become beneficial." She turned her head forward to address the entire council.

"Too long have we remained in the UnderDark, ostracized by the world of men and surface dwelling elves. Our forces are great, but we are required to retreat when the light above is at its brightest. Removing these orcs as an obstacle will give us further control of this valley and will allow our army to march onward under the cover of night." 

Eventually her audience came to agreement. They would give this tribal leader the choice of joining forces or being eliminated. It would not take long for reinforcements to arrive from The Capital and claim victory for the dark elves. Orc lifespans were not nearly as long as races with fae blood, so time would not be on their side, regardless of what this chief decided for her people. Bloodweaver and her warriors could fight these brutes for decades and not age in the slightest. War would cripple the orcs ability to breed, and even the tribe's finest would grow old within years if they were not first killed in battle.

Bloodweaver watched as the imposing individual was brought in. She was much taller than any drow, and obviously possessed much physical strength. Her blood red skin and dark hair were matched by the many scars lining her body. This tribal leader seemed already angered and uncomfortable with being led underground. She had come alone, as what had been suggested in the previous agreement, and a group of drow soldiers surrounded her. Bloodweaver studied the orc with a slight curiosity. Her enemy did not seem worried to be surrounded by so many adversaries. Perhaps she assumed that her power and large stature would be enough should she need to escape? The dark elf stood from her throne to address the newcomer.

"I am thankful that you have agreed to meet with myself and my fellow council. I am Priestess Bloodweaver of-" 

The orc shouted something in her native tongue before the priestess could finish. A moment passed and the orc spoke again, this time in the world's language aptly named Common. 

"You threaten my tribe. I'm only here to give my people time to prepare for another attack. You cannot have this land." 

Bloodweaver sat down and stared at the tall figure, unsure if she was bored or interested in this meeting. "Is that so?" She wondered aloud. "I presume that you have a name, orc. Identify yourself." 

A reply was growled, "Folag, of the tribe of Raven's Beak."


	2. Chapter 2

"Well, Folag." Bloodweaver began. The dark elf emphasized the name as she spoke it. Switching to using Common in order to communicate with the orc was troublesome enough. Saying a name that could only have come from such a barbaric race only added to the priestess's distain. 

"It seems that you fail to realize the situation you and your tribe have found yourselves in. Regardless of whether it results in war or not, my forces will overtake this valley and continue with our domination of the surface world. This council has declared that you will either pledge allegiance to the cause of our goddess, or be destroyed." 

It wasn't a complete fabrication, but the drow purposefully left out the fact that should the orc tribe join with the drow, they would become nothing more than additional soldiers. They would be sentenced to the front-lines and used for their immense physical strength. With her cunning and terrible magic, Bloodweaver was certain that even the leader of such powerful people would be forced to submit before too long. 

Folag listened silently as the drow spoke, watching the guards that surrounded her from the corner of her eye. Verbal negotiations were never her strongest suit. She wondered how many of these shadow-colored elves she could defeat by herself. They were small in stature, but there was something about the air around these strangers that worried the tribal leader. Brute strength was something she almost always had the advantage in. She was confident that she could easily break the body of this so-called priestess. But looking up and meeting Bloodweaver's gaze, Folag felt a chill run down her spine. For as ruthless as even half-orcs such as herself could be, these drow held some sort of evil that she had never experienced. 

"You think we are beaten so easily?" Folag taunted, trying not to let any weakness be shown. "My tribe is strong. We will not bow to you, or your goddess." The half-orc spat. 

Bloodweaver let out an exaggerated sigh. "My my, and here I had assumed that you would only want what is best for your people. Losing such resilient warriors to the gruesome demise that is sure to follow seems like such a waste of potential." Even if they were to kill the orc leader tonight, Bloodweaver had no qualms with toying with her newest prey. Making the senseless chief lose her temper would be amusing at least. 

Folag was losing the little bit of patience she had. "We will not join you. We value strength and our freedom. There is no place for your kind above ground." 

The drow priestess stood from her throne once again and began to walk towards the orc. Even though Folag stood much taller than the elf, the commanding energy she held made the height difference much less apparent. Standing in front of the chieftain, Bloodweaver studied her enemy. "What a shame. We could have ruled this world as equals..." A lie. The elf had no intention of ever sharing power with such brainless monsters. 

Before Folag could react, the priestess had raised a hand and the half-orc felt her muscles tense. The tall warrior became angry. She wanted to destroy this white-haired woman with her bare hands and silence her for good. But... her body would not move. What sort of enchantment was this? The rage inside her grew as she looked down to meet Bloodweaver's cruel smile. Folag felt her blood boil at the sight. 

The drow seemed amused at how easily she had controlled the orc. She could feel the rest of the council watching the situation occur. They would not assist her should things go astray. The lives of individual drow were unimportant, regardless of their status of power. 

But the elf had no worry in her mind as she focused on her magic. Her bloodline had not been yet continued, and she was confident that her goddess would not claim her in death before the fact. A wicked grin sat across her dark colored face as she continued to restrict Folag's movement. 

Suddenly, beyond comprehension, the orc broke out of the spell and raised Bloodweaver into the air. Her rough hand was gripped around the elf's throat. Folag could feel each vein and muscle against her palm, and laughed to herself at how easily Bloodweaver's small body could be shattered. 

The council of drow and surrounding guards were left stunned. No one had ever overcome Bloodweaver's magic like that. Especially not with such ferocity. 

Not a single movement was made as the dark elves waited to see what action the orc would take. Even with the curious resistance to being charmed, it would take mere seconds for those remaining in the stone chamber to subdue the warrior. 

Folag's hand squeezed on the small woman's neck. It would take no more than a second for the bones inside to be crushed. Regardless if she was defeated, she could at least take this irritating priestess down with her. But, the elf's cold stare was an unusual sight. Even Folag's strongest of enemies had shown at least a hint of fear when their lives were so close to being cut short. But Bloodweaver's expression had not changed. In fact, the unpleasant smile still remained on her face.

The brief second that Folag was taken off guard gave Bloodweaver enough time to focus herself into another spell. A blast of energy released from her palm and found contact in the orc's chest. The attack forced the tribe leader's grip to lessen just enough for the priestess to drop from being suspended in the air. 

Shouting in a mixture of pain and rage, Folag reached forward to attack the drow again. Bloodweaver quickly drew her sword and held the blade against the orc's neck. The two combatants stayed in their poses, eyes locked onto one another. 

"You have made your decision apparent. I extend a wish of hospitality that you may remain in our surveillance for the night." Bloodweaver declared. Something about the strange woman had claimed an interest in the drow. The initial plan had been to simply kill her if she had refused their offer. Bloodweaver could no deny the appeal in an idea far more sinister. If they were to destroy the rest of this tribe, breaking Folag's spirit and turning her into a personal slave of the priestess could be an entertaining project. Regardless, defeating the rest of these savages would be easier should the chieftain be unable to return to them.

The rest of the council had understood Blooweaver's insinuation and rose from their thrones in unison. Soon each of them were casting the same spell towards the orc. A blanket of fog swirled around the room and enveloped Folag before she could react. The dark magic took the place of the air around her and the imposing woman promptly lost consciousness. 

"I want her restrained and brought to my chambers." Bloodweaver ordered as the guards worked to collect their newest prisoner. 

"Bloodweaver, is that wise? We need only to dispose of the orc. Keeping her alive may prove unfavorable to our success." Another figure from the council asked in their own language of Underspeak.

"Do not worry yourself with my personal affairs, Plaguecaster. Whether she is kept alive or not, I take full responsibility for our guest." The priestess watched as her prey was removed from the room, and followed the guards shortly after.


	3. Chapter 3

Folag's eyes shot open. What had happened? Had she been asleep? Her reflexes took hold and she leapt up into a crouched defensive stance. She reached for the jagged knife that she kept on her belt, ready for any possible attack. Scanning the environment around her, her muscles slightly relaxed. She was alone in what seemed to be some sort of tent. The room was small, and had a few items of furniture inside. 

The half-orc heard the sound of someone entering the makeshift building behind her. Looking towards the noise, her blood ran cold. The priestess from before stood there, the dark elf meeting her gaze with pale pink-colored eyes.

"You! I will not be your prisoner!" Folag growled, gripping her knife tighter. As much as her instincts told her to rush forward and take the life of the bothersome drow, she knew better this time. If she charged, Bloodweaver would simply cast another spell on her. Folag narrowed her eyebrows in anger. Magic users were always such a pain to fight. They hid behind their powers and kept enemies at a distance, something that those with orc blood usually viewed as a cowardly. 

"If you were truly a prisoner, you would be kept with the rest of our slaves. While it may have been my previous intention, I have since changed my mind about you." Bloodweaver stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

Folag gritted her teeth. Whatever situation she'd found herself in, she was prepared to die in an attempt to escape. If only she could also kill this smaller figure in the process.

The elf watched and responded with a laugh. "It is true I have brought you here, but I merely have a proposition for you." She stepped to the side, removing her cloak as she did so. The fabric fell to the floor and was soon followed by the sound of the drow's armor falling beside it. 

Folag watched with a slight curiosity. She was unsure of what action to take. The priestess continued to disrobe, almost ignoring that Folag was even there. Soon Bloodweaver was left with very little to cover herself. 

"When you held your hand against my throat..." Bloodweaver raised her fingers to her own neck and traced where Folag's palm had previously been. "No others have broken through my magic with such force. For a moment, I was genuinely afraid."

"You are right to fear me." Folag replied, unable to guess where this interaction was headed.

Bloodweaver began walking towards her guest. "Tell me, how is it that a monster such as you could resist my power?"

The half-orc remained in her defensive stance. The elf was right, Folag had somehow withstood whatever charm had been used against her. Without the fear of magic, the threat standing before her could be easily dealt with. She could charge forward and escape within moments. But why had Bloodweaver removed her armor? Did she still not see Folag as a true opponent?

"You see, you have piqued my curiosity." Bloodweaver continued. Raising a hand up, a flash of purple flames surrounded the inside perimeter of the tent. 

Folag felt a sense of panic as the walls of light encircled the two of them. This fire was unlike anything she had seen, and obviously of a dark and magical origin. Although it did not seem to burn the fabric around them or grow any closer. 

"Should you find it necessary to touch these flames, you will be greeted to injuries that your feeble mind cannot begin to comprehend."

The half-orc growled. This priestess was infuriating and she couldn't wait to be free of this situation. Folag hadn't dealt with magic all too often, but the spells typically faded when the caster was slain.

"It is not my problem if you do not believe me." Bloodweaver teased. "And regarding my proposal, I believe you will be interested once you hear it." She continued towards Folag until the knife was almost touching her dark grey skin. "You see, we are both monsters in our desires."

The chieftain could feel her heart beating faster. Her enemy was small but carried an evil presence with her. The drow's pale gaze was unnerving. The pink irises were so light, it was almost like they didn't exist at all. Folag could run her blade through her smaller enemy and be done with it. It would be as easy as slaughtering a hunted animal. If only she could will herself to fight this feeling of terror and take the action. 

Bloodweaver moved closer, reaching out to place her fingers against Folag's rough skin as the flames danced around them. She traced the scars in her reach, following the jagged lines that covered the tribal warrior's body. With such an amount of healed injuries, there was no way some satisfaction was not taken when they were first created.

"Make me fear you."

The half-orc pierced the knife through the elf without any resistance. 

Blood pooled around the blade and began to drip onto the floor. Folag felt the warmth flow over the rest of the knife and onto her hand. Glancing from the fresh wound and further up to the dark skinned face, Folag was taken aback. Bloodweaver was still smiling. She placed both of her dark grey hands on top of Folag's and pushed the knife even farther into her chest, laughing as she started coughing up blood. 

If Folag had been frightened at all before, it could not be compared to how she felt now. The half-orc was shaken to her core. She was going to assist in her own death?

As more blood fell onto the floor, the elf raised her hands, releasing the warrior's initial grip from the dagger. It remained, having been pushed all the way to the hilt. A smile still ran across Bloodweaver's face, contrasting the expression of horror the taller woman carried. The shadows of the fire caused the scene to be even more unsettling.

Waving a hand across the injury, a light appeared in the drow's palm and the knife fell to the floor. When the spell faded, the wound had been immediately healed. If not for the surrounding blood, it looked as if the attack had never happened. Not even a scar remained.

"Just as I suspected," Bloodweaver stated in between laughter. "My goddess has not permitted me to die just yet."

The priestess reached upward and held the half-orc's face. Folag was far too stunned to even step out of her crouched position, let alone react. The drow's fingers traced along the dark red skin, leaving a trail of her own blood. The kiss that followed was even more surprising. 

Tasting blood was something Folag was fairly used to, but never in this sort of context. As unexpected as the action had been, she couldn't break away. The embrace seemed to fuel an underlying feeling of lust Folag had held for her enemy. Bloodweaver pulled back with a look of satisfaction. 

The rage inside Folag battled with the confusion. For as savage as orcs could admittedly be, this was something entirely different. They were fierce warriors, but such force was kept separate when lying with one another. The tribe leader had never been in such an aggressive situation outside of battle. Her anger and desire to kill the frightening elf became mixed with additional primal urges as the physicality continued. 

"Show me the unrelenting power of an orc." Bloodweaver ordered.


End file.
